


watch me corrode like a beast in repose

by alexanger



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Blindfolds, Bloodplay, Choking, Flogging, M/M, Pain, Restraints, blade play, this is all super consensual holy shit these tags are kinda savage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-01
Packaged: 2018-10-13 13:13:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10514463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanger/pseuds/alexanger
Summary: giveaway prize!prompt: "I'd love to see sub!Alex getting choked by dom!Thomas, with some pain and blood play if you can manage it!"





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inspire_me_to_breathe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inspire_me_to_breathe/gifts).



Most people who see Alexander’s public interactions with Jefferson have one question - “Why do you purposefully piss him off so much?”

Well, if they could see the two of them together in private - Jefferson’s hand clenched around Alexander’s throat, squeezing the air out of him - maybe they’d understand.

Or maybe they wouldn’t.

It’s a precarious dance. Bother him too little, and Jefferson isn’t as savage; bother him too much and he won’t go through with the scene, for fear real anger will come through. Alexander has become very skilled at striking that delicate balance and more often than not, by the time they get home, Jefferson is overflowing with energy and ready to make Alex suffer.

They have a routine and Alex knows every step of it like the beating of his own heart.

He’s been particularly obnoxious today, and he quivers as he gets into Jefferson’s car. Jefferson doesn’t say a word, doesn’t acknowledge him in any way, and that’s how Alex knows he’s done well. That’s how he knows that it’s going to  _ hurt  _ the moment they get home.

It isn’t until they’ve been driving for fifteen minutes that Jefferson deigns to speak to him. “Collar,” he says. 

Alex waits, but that appears to be it. He reaches into the glove compartment, rummages around, finds his red leather collar and buckles it on.

There’s silence for a few more minutes before Jefferson says, “when we get inside, you’re going to strip, fetch me my kit, and then present yourself on the bench.”

“Anything else?” Alex asks.

“Manners,” says Jefferson. His tone is light but icy.

“Yes, sir,” says Alex, and he feels himself mellowing, the way he always does when he sinks into sub space.

He drifts, content, until they reach home. The moments drag out as Jefferson parks the car, unlocks the front door, and lets Alex inside, and it feels like forever until they’re both in the house and the door clicks shut. The moment the door is closed Alex is shucking his clothes and dropping them on the stool next to the shoe rack.

“You’re making a mess,” Jefferson says, but it barely registers.

Alex runs up the stairs as fast as his legs can carry him. It only takes a moment to track down the kit - it’s in the bathroom, laid out, freshly sanitized, so he bundles it all together and brings it to the bedroom. He pauses for a moment, then grabs his favourite flogger, the one that almost always leaves a few open wounds.

Near the end of the bed stands their bench. It’s halfway between a pommel horse and a leather step stool, and it’s constructed to strap down someone who is laying on their stomach. It’s incredibly uncomfortable to recline back on it, but Alex knows that’s what Jefferson wants when he says “present yourself.” It’s uncomfortable; the edges dig into Alex’s back, but he savours the ache. It’s going to hurt so, so much more very soon, and the discomfort just sharpens his senses. He closes his eyes and lets it wash over him.

He doesn’t need to look up to know that Jefferson has entered the room. The atmosphere changes when he’s near. It’s more electric, some sort of sharpness in the air; it’s not a scent but it tingles in Alex’s nostrils with every breath he draws. 

“Good boy,” Jefferson purrs. “You were awful today, weren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” Alex breathes. He keeps his eyes closed. There’s the sensation of fabric drawing over his eyelids, the faintest whiff of the cologne that Jefferson dabs on his wrists every morning, and then the blindfold is cinching tight around his head. He opens his eyes, just a crack, just to see if it’s on right. There’s nothing but darkness.

“How many do you think you deserve?”

There’s a trick here. Jefferson always doubles what Alex suggests, at the very least - on a few notable occasions he’s quadrupled it - but Alex knows that he is obligated to answer honestly. He is not permitted to lowball in the hopes of avoiding pain (a whippable offense), nor is he allowed to overestimate (punishable by deprivation). Furthermore, if he takes too long, Jefferson starts to lose his patience.

“I’m waiting,” Jefferson says.

“Five,” Alex blurts. It’s wrong, he guessed wrong, and he can tell by the thunderous silence that greets his response.

“Five,” Jefferson says finally. It’s a challenge.

“More?” Alex asks.

There’s a touch suddenly on his shin. It’s cold and wet and the sharp scent of rubbing alcohol meets his nose. It’s Jefferson swabbing him, disinfecting a long section of skin. So that’s how bad he’s been, then. Far worse than he’d thought.

“Ten per,” Jefferson says. Alex is silent long enough that Jefferson prompts, “give me a colour.”

“Green,” Alex says.

There’s the sound of metal on metal, the soft hiss of a snug sheath being moved, the gentle rasp of another alcohol swab on his shin, and then a deep sting that moves evenly through his skin. It’s a line that runs horizontal just beneath his knee, deep enough that Alex can feel it drip as Jefferson pulls his hand away.

“Ah,” says Alex, and he tries to form words but he can’t. He tips his head back and groans as the scalpel bites into his skin again. Each cut is close enough to the previous one that it tugs on them all. It can’t scab over with all that pulling, and when Jefferson is done, the blood has trickled down to his ankle.

“Next leg,” Jefferson says, and then there’s the scent of alcohol again and another sharp pain. The sensation builds with each fresh cut and before long tears are saturating the soft cotton of the blindfold.

“Sir,” Alex whines.

“One more?”

“Green.”

Jefferson hums deep in his chest and carves the last line unbearably slowly. Alex draws in breath in a low hiss and tenses.

“Relax,” Jefferson tells him. “I want to do your arms too.”

“Shallow,” says Alex.

“Of course.”

“Green,” he whispers.

Another swab, this time on the side of his forearm, and then Jefferson is rapidly sliding the blade against him, ten quick little motions, just deep enough to sting. There’s a little blood that wells, but Alex can’t feel any dripping this time. It’s the same on the other side. Before he can settle into the pain, Jefferson says, “roll over and get in position.”

And this is why the cuts are so cruel -

When Alex rolls over and gets into place, arranging his limbs so he can be tied to the bench, the parts of his arms and legs he rests his weight on are the parts Jefferson has cut.

It hurts enough just resting his limbs while he lays on his stomach on top of the bench. It  _ really  _ starts to sting when Jefferson straps him down, cinching the restraints tight so every inch of his broken skin is flush against the leather. “Comfortable?” Jefferson asks, and all Alex can do is whimper. He knows that it only gets worse from here.

He isn’t sure what Jefferson is going to start him with, so when a slick finger gently teases his asshole he yelps with the surprise. Jefferson immediately withdraws to ask, “too much?”

“Mm-mm. Green,” Alex says, and the finger returns. It slowly circles the hole and Alex relaxes little by little against the gentle stroking. He can feel himself opening a little, the finger probing deeper without having to push, and then it thrusts inside of him and curls down against his prostate and he groans. His cock, which he’s been successfully ignoring up until now, gently stirs beneath him. It’s trapped against his stomach between him and the bench. Jefferson rubs his prostate hard enough that Alex can feel his cock weeping.

Jefferson pulls out just long enough to add a second slick finger and push back in. Both of them tend to get a little excessive with lube; Alex can feel it dripping down his perineum and trailing along his balls as Jefferson fucks those fingers in and out of him. Each stroke in pushes against his prostate. 

Without warning, Jefferson pulls his fingers out and lands a vicious blow against the backs of Alex’s thighs with the flogger. Alex can feel the leather bite deep, and he can’t tell if it’s the sensation of blood welling or sweat rolling down the skin but something is suddenly dripping where it wasn’t dripping before. Jefferson pushes three fingers in, gives him a few more thrusts, and then pulls out to flog the other thigh.

“Two,” Alex says. He knows what’s expected of him.

What pushes into him next isn’t a finger, but a silicone plug. It’s a slender taper that teases him more than anything, but at least it presses against his prostate. His cock throbs underneath him; the cuts on his arms and legs burn.

Two more savage blows land on the back of each thigh, and Alex manages to choke out, “four.”

“You said you deserved five, didn’t you?” Jefferson asks. There’s a hit on his left thigh, a little gentler this time, and Alex makes the mistake of relaxing. The next lash is ferocious, far harder than the last ones; Alex can feel it splitting his skin.

“Yes, sir,” he sobs. “Six -”

“Ah, so at least you can count, if nothing else. Can you make it to ten?”

Alex barely finishes nodding before the next two land. Shuddering, he chokes out, “eight.”

“Two more.” Jefferson strokes a gentle hand along the backs of Alex’s thighs. It’s definitely wet, and there’s enough of a drag - just the hint of something sticky - that Alex knows he’s bleeding. Maybe a lot. 

Jefferson’s fingers tease one of the wounds and Alex tenses and moans.

“Two more,” Jefferson says again. Alex nods.

The hand is gone, and for a moment there’s nothing but silence. Alex can hear his own breathing, ragged, rapid, shallow. He wills himself to breathe slower and fill his lungs properly.

One thunderous blow lands, and before Alex can even react, the second follows, this time on the same thigh. Two lashes in the same place, one right after the other, is almost unbearable; Alex  _ howls  _ and breaks and tears stream from beneath the blindfold and cascade down his face.

“Ten,” he whimpers. “Thank you -”

There’s something damp rasping against the backs of his thighs - a washcloth, Alex thinks. It’s not as soft as he’d like but the roughness keeps him on edge. It passes over his broken skin again and again. He wonders if there’s a lot of blood to clean up, or if Jefferson is just doing it to string him out.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” Jefferson says. “And then I’m going to fuck your ass.”

“Please,” Alex says.

The rasp stops and there’s the sound of something dropping into water, and suddenly all Alex can smell is Jefferson’s cologne and laundry detergent. The jangle of a belt buckle, a fly unzipping, the rustle of shirt against slacks, and then something presses against Alex’s lips and he opens them greedily. The head of Jefferson’s cock slides in and settles on his tongue. Alex can taste precum; he lashes his tongue against the head of Jefferson’s cock, seeking more. He teases the slit, running the tip of his tongue back and forth along it, and when Jefferson moans, Alex nearly loses it.

He’s rewarded by Jefferson’s fingers reaching under to close around his throat. Jefferson searches for the jugular and then squeezes. It takes a moment to hit, just like always; and then he’s lightheaded and soaring as Jefferson slips deep into his throat and starts fucking in earnest.

“I can feel my cock through your throat,” Jefferson whispers. His gravelly voice is hoarse and heady. “I can feel myself fucking you. You’re a good little cocksleeve, aren’t you? Getting desperate?”

Alex’s chest heaves as he searches for air that isn’t there. He squirms a little; Jefferson stops squeezing and pulls out of his throat, and Alex sucks in air gratefully. He’s given a moment to take half a dozen breaths before Jefferson is grabbing him and thrusting back into his throat again. He makes a harsh, guttural noise as his throat is stuffed and his air is cut off again. 

“This is what you’re good for. I love it when you’re quiet for me. Can’t talk like this, can you? All you can do is lay there and take my cock while you run out of air. And you love it, don’t you?”

Alex moans assent as best he can. Jefferson releases his throat and pulls out and says, “tell me how much you love it.”

“I love your cock,” Alex rasps. He’s hoarse and it’s hard to force the words out. “I love the way you fuck my mouth. Sir, please, don’t stop -” He grinds down against the bench and pulls against the straps and the pain explodes again in the open wounds along his arms and legs.

“Do you want me coming down your throat or in your ass?” Jefferson asks.

It’s a rare show of kindness. Alex doesn’t know exactly how to deal with it - he’s so used to Jefferson taking total control and making all the decisions, and it’s a little alarming to actually have a choice.

“My ass,” he decides finally.

Jefferson unstraps his wrists and then circles around behind him and releases his ankles. “Can you walk?” he asks. Alex lets one leg down, wobbles a little, and shakes his head, so Jefferson puts an arm around his chest and holds him up so they can hobble to the bed.

“Are my thighs bad?” he asks.

“Yeah,” says Jefferson, and Alex purrs as he settles back on the bed.

“Good,” he murmurs. He can feel them burn where they touch the bedspread.

Jefferson pushes Alex’s knees until he draws them up, then presses them back and eases the plug out of him. “I’m going to be rough,” he warns.

“Please,” says Alex.

The next thing he feels is Jefferson sinking into him. His cock never seems to end; it’s long and thick and so fucking  _ hard _ and Alex groans as Jefferson’s hips finally press against him. He can feel himself slipping away into the dreamlike haze he always settles into when the pain is over and he just has the afterglow to savour. There’s a deep ache in his broken skin, a sting whenever Jefferson touches it, but he’s foggy, now, drifting as Jefferson fucks him hard and fast and deep.

Jefferson is leaning over him, fingertips light against his throat, just over his collar. “I want to choke you again,” he says.

“Green,” Alex murmurs.

Those long fingers are clenching on his throat again before he can process what’s happening. Jefferson is always careful; he bears down until Alex is in desperate need of air and then eases off just long enough to let him catch his breath again. As he fades in and out, Alex can only focus on one sensation at a time. He ponders the ebb and flow of his breath, his blood, as he’s rocked on the edge of unconsciousness, and then his attention wanders to the throbbing of his thighs, his shins, his forearms. Almost as an afterthought he focuses on the way Jefferson saws in and out of him and he suddenly realizes that he’s coming. He spatters his chest and belly, his cock spasming hard, his ass clenching with each spurt, and that’s when Jefferson releases his throat, thrusts balls deep, and comes.

“Fuck,” Jefferson gasps, shuddering and rocking through his orgasm.

“Mmmm,” Alex agrees, arching his back. He’s in agony and Jefferson grinding into him is far too much sensation and he can hardly stand it -

Jefferson pulls out and gathers Alex into his arms. “You with me, Alex?” he asks.

“Mmhm,” Alex hums.

“What if we get you cleaned up? I’ll bandage you and make sure everything is disinfected.”

“Give me a minute?” Alex asks. His tongue is far too heavy, but it feels good to have desires and requests and to ask for something.

“Of course,” says Jefferson. “You take all the time you need.”

“Thank you. I love you, Thomas,” Alex says.

Thomas gently eases off the blindfold and smiles at him. His grin is broad and dazzling. “I know,” he says. “I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> so this was supposed to be a 1k ficlet for a mini giveaway. that's definitely not what happened. my hands slipped
> 
> come chat to me at [alexangery.tumblr.com](http://alexangery.tumblr.com) and keep an eye out for my upcoming 10k word giveaway!


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